Small city, big screen
by bandtogetherandfight
Summary: Jesse confronts Rachel about her engagement. Pointless drabble.


**_Someone who has no idea that I am a writer told me today that to become a good writer, you have to write something everyday. So, here's another one-hour drabble. Plus, a disclaimer - I haven't seen Glee since possibly September, except for the clip of Rachel's dads in the kitchen from Tuesday's episode. Thus, I have no idea how reflective of canon this is or is not. _**

I.

She is vetting (read: vetoing) Finn's suggestions for wedding songs when Jesse strolls casually into her room.

He's munching on what looks like one of her daddy's triple chocolate brownies, because Hiram goes into severe Barefoot Contessa mode when he's stressed.

Because, this wedding? It's the most stressful thing to happen in the Berry household since the unfortunate lube accident of '08.

(Details later.)

Rachel's pretty sure that there are _still _chocolate chip cookies from that summer lurking somewhere in the freezers in the basement.

On the bright side, she may just get a wedding cake out of it this time.

Without any response to her questioning look, Jesse straddles her desk chair and wheels closer to where she's sprawled across her bed. It's so familiar, so natural, it's almost as if they haven't not seen each other since May of last year.

May. Has it really been that long?

She sits up on her bed to ream him out for reentering her world without permission, but loses focus and hurriedly crosses her arms across her chest when she remembers that she isn't wearing a bra under the plain white cotton tee she has on.

"Relax," he says, laughing at her slight embarrassment. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

His intentionally lingering gaze does nothing to help the blush in her cheeks.

"Thing are different now," she informs him matter-of-factly. "Finn and I are engaged to be married."

He actually smiles, but it's a twisted, almost sad, smile that isn't convincing in the least.

"I heard," he says after a beat. "I guess I just needed to see it for myself."

She drops her hands from shielding her chest and holds out her left hand to him so that he can scrutinize her ring.

"Mundane," he finally says, pushing her hand away from him. "I'm sure he picked it out of some ad in the Sunday paper."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Rachel defends. "Not everyone has the St. James fortune to exploit."

"Cut the crap, Rachel," he tells her, shaking his head. "We went to Chuck E. Cheese and gave impromptu picnics in the park for our dates. That ring isn't you. You would have been happy with the tab from a Coke can if it meant something to you. It's not about the money and you know it – it's about the effort, and he obviously didn't make any."

"And what?" she challenges loudly. "You think you could do better?"

"It's an inevitability," he says, meeting and holding her gaze, the full effect of the word 'inevitable' evident to them both. "Because I swear it Rachel, I won't allow you to give up on your dreams and be imprisoned in this godforsaken town. Not for him."

She literally screams at him, voicing the frustration she feels. "What we had wasn't real, Jesse! It was a sick game to you. How dare you compare that to what Finn and I have together."

"Two hours," Jesse states, looking down at the floor. "Give me two hours of your time tonight to show you the mistake you're making, and if you never want to speak to me again, then so be it. You know I will keep my word and stay away."

She does know. That had been their downfall. He always has been a man of his word. Too bad, back then, he hadn't given his word to her.

_It's my one great regret_.

"Fine," she says, more quickly than either of them expected. "You have two hours. And, then, … and then that's it."

II.

Her fathers are all too eager to let her go off with Jesse, and she makes an obvious show of counting the minutes on her watch as he drives to a location he won't reveal.

He pulls up in front of the IMAX theater downtown, and she can't help but express her disbelief.

"This is your great plan?" she asks, a slight mocking undertone in her voice. "We're going to see a movie?"

They get out of the car, and it's immediately apparent that the movie theater is empty, and there are no films playing tonight.

She thinks about mentioning it, but it's obvious he already knows.

A flicker of fear rises in her at the thought. She has accepted that her marriage to Finn and a life with him in Lima are the new plans for her future, but there's part of her that knows that Jesse wouldn't be doing this if he weren't 100% sure of his success.

She thinks she's already making it easier for him by giving him the benefit of the doubt. She can't help it.

She has always associated the words 'Jesse St. James' with achieving the impossible.

The theater itself is dark and eerily quiet, and the 70-foot screen, though blank, is almost intimidating.

He's walking ahead of her, but reaches behind him for her hand, which she takes without thought or question.

He directs her to the absolute middle of the theater, and when they are both seated and she's peering at him with inquisitive eyes, he reaches for his IPhone.

One tap, and the giant screen lights up in front of them.

He chuckles quietly at her small gasp.

It's practically magic.

"This is the girl I fell in love with," he says simply, by way of setting up the clip.

The opening chords of _Don't Rain on My Parade _fill the vast theater, and she finds herself watching her performance at Sectionals sophomore year.

The performance he had called lacking in emotional depth certainly doesn't seem that way now.

She's watched this video more times than she would care to admit, but there's something about seeing it so many stories high and hearing it so loud that just makes it seem so _real_.

It's impossible to ignore the smile on her face, the happiness in her eyes, and the absolute joy of her spirit as she absolutely commands her audience.

God, when was the last time she felt like that?

It's almost as if he's reading her mind, because he poses the same question to her when she takes her bow.

She swallows against the lump in her throat and ignores his question in favor of changing the subject.

"This doesn't have anything to do with you," she accuses. "We didn't even know each other then."

He looks over at her for a while before he answers, and, when he does, she swears she has hurt him a little bit.

He doesn't respond verbally, but points to the frozen image on the screen towards where two people, one male, the other female with long dark hair, are noticeably not participating in the standing ovation.

"You don't applaud when you feel threatened," he says laughingly. "I didn't know why at the time, but Shelby was practically pissing her pants."

"And what about you?" she asks curiously, dropping her gaze.

He snorts. "Hard."

She furrows her brow at him until she realizes that he doesn't mean that it's a difficult question to answer.

"Oh."

"Are you really ready and willing to give that up?" he asks cautiously. "Because you're right, Rachel. It's not about me. It's about you doing what you were born to do; what you have to give yourself the chance to do. But, Rach, it's not about him, either. This… you … what you can do… it's never going to be about him."

"I hate flying," she says, seemingly out of nowhere.

He smiles as if he understands what she means, when she knows he doesn't.

Or maybe he does. "I remember."

"There's this feeling," she continues, "I can't explain it, but when I'm flying, I need to feel all the bumps and the turbulence, because in some ways it makes it less scary, because you know that you're still in the air. It feels real; you're alert. But when everything is calm and you're not paying attention – you're just sitting there, and you could be freefalling, and you would never know it."

He tilts his head towards her, contemplating the metaphor. "So feeling all the bumps with Finn makes you feel more secure, because you can anticipate it," he analyzes.

She nods. "I fell hard with you, Jesse, and I didn't even realize it was coming. I didn't realize I was falling until after we had crashed and burned. I'm not sure I can do that again."

"I understand that," he says, surprising her. "But if you're distracted by all the bumps in the road Rachel, if you focus on what's real and what's in front of you, you could be missing the ride of your life. You could be missing your chance at everything that could happen."

She looks away from him, surreptitiously wiping her eyes with the side of her hand.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I don't want it to be me," he tells her honestly. "But I'll settle for you taking a chance and going for it, even if some lucky bastard eventually gets you for himself. But not yet, not before you've given yourself the chance to fly, and you _soar_."

She opens her mouth to answer him, but he puts a finger to her lips. "I still have an hour," he warns her, "And I've got one more thing I want to show you."

He takes her hand again and leads her to the bottom of the theater, directly in front of the screen.

"Close your eyes," he commands her, and she obeys without hesitation.

She feels him tie a blindfold around her eyes and then move away from her.

A sense of panic rises within her. For some reason, she's emotionally on edge tonight. Everything she thought she knew, she's not so confident in anymore.

"Jesse," she calls, needing him to assure her that he's still with her, that she's not alone.

She immediately feels him step in front of her and caress her cheek.

Before she realizes it, she's leaning forward for a kiss, which he's only too happy to give.

"I'm here," he whispers. "Don't worry."

There's something about the kiss that makes her immediately okay, ready to face whatever he's going to throw at her.

It becomes immediately apparent what this is all about when she can hear what sounds like a sold-out audience, down to the hushed whispers and the flip of Playbills.

She hears the curtain rise and the orchestra start to play. Two seconds later, she's heeding her cue and singing _Don't Cry for Me Argentina _to what sounds like the appreciative audience of her dreams.

She doesn't know how he managed it, but she can _hear_ the standing ovation – the hinges of the seats, the rush of fabric as people get to their feet.

It_ is_ magic. This feeling – it's indescribable.

She's soaring, that's for sure, but somehow, intuitively, she knows that she won't fall.

He's out there, somewhere, and he was right – it is the ride of her life.

And, suddenly, she's not scared anymore.


End file.
